Love is a Double Edged Sword
by Dae Kalina
Summary: After defeating Mephistoles, our heroine had herself her one true love, some real friends... and some real problems. There are some things she's been keeping from people, and they're coming back-along with some new troubles
1. Prelude: Secrets

_**Disclaimer**__**:** I don't own any of these characters, except maybe Thralia Latoness. The idea of these events are partially my own, mostly not, but an adaptation of a pre-existing story line. _

_I've been itching to write this fanfic for a while-I have a whole plot line laid out. First of all, I'm saying Thralia is the hero of Neverwinter, and of Waterdeep, and of Undredtide. And that more companions are there than could have been-if you don't like it, it's still not my problem. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and even if you don't, please review! And give me ideas. Right now the story is T rating, but it might change-due to violence, or fluff, but please give suggestions! Also, if you are reading it, and like updates-review! Those little words that tell me someone is actually reading this give me a reason to continue. Anyways, on with the story!_

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Hands trembling, Thralia pressed her palms tight against her eyes, taking a deep breath. In, one, two, three…. Out, one, two, three. Breathe. Just breathe. Everyone thought she was trembling because of fear. If only… Removing her hands she stepped away from the demon, taking three steps backwards before turning around and walking back to her companions. Of them, three were looking decidedly concerned, while the fourth was busy hopping around in excitemet.

"Boss killed big mean goat-man!" the kobold cried excitedly. "This be good for book!" the bard-dragon disciple continued, smiling his toothy grin. Tired, Thralia still managed to flash a weary grin at the kobold, though she felt something weigh heavily on her heart. Mephistoles wasn't dead. Having learned his true name from the Knower of Names, she had whispered it in his ear, telling him that when darkness fell he would return to Cania, bound forever in one of the pits where his rebellious generals had been imprisoned-before Thralia Latoness had come along and systematically killed them all.

The druidess-arcane archer-wizard wiped sweat off her brow, concealing a frown. True, it probably would have been better to kill the demon, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to do it. She should, but the thought came that killing him would make room for some other demon or devil to take his place. Still, she wasn't going to share her logic with her companions. Valen, for sure, would not be pleased.

Aribeth relaxed once she reached out a ghostly arm and touched the elven heroine. Shoulder length hair fell around her face, and emerald eyes still shone bright with life. "You do not seem much worse for battle," she said, smiling at Thralia. For a moment, in the beginning, she had nearly sided with Mephistoles. His words had seemed so true, and fighting the truth never got one anywhere… but then Thralia had looked at her, not with anger or disgust at Aribeth's pending betrayal, but understanding. That had done it.

Thralia was armed with all their true names, just as they all knew hers, but she had not used her weapon on any of her companions-except to lift Valen's taint, Nathyrra's feelings of perpetual guilt, and gave Aribeth a clean slate. In that one moment where the elven woman had looked at Aribeth, the paladin knew that Thralia wouldn't hate her no matter what she did. And that, more than anything else, had done it. She could still remember her words to the arch-devil. "I am a paladin of Tyr, a dispenser of justice-I will not be swayed from my friends' sides by your lies." Tyr had been with her, had been with them all, and they had prevailed.

Passing by Aribeth, Thralia embraced Nathyrra, the drow woman and the wood elf not caring if anyone thought it was strange. The two had become close, like sisters, with Aribeth a more maternal/older sister presence. Neither said a word, just looked at each other, reading the other's eyes. Nathyrra could see her friends weariness, her concern for the townspeople, her sorrow at the lives lost, and something else, something darker that disturbed the assassin. When she looked again it was gone, so she could never tell if it had actually been there.

Thralia could see Nathyrra's relief, and a smile crossed both of their faces at the same time. Nathyrra hadn't hesitated when Mephistoles had offered to spare her if she fought with him, trying to guilt the former assassin into it; she hadn't believed one word. "Elistaree has forgiven me for my past; I am not a wanton murderer, and I stand with Thralia."

A hand tapped Nathyrra's shoulder, and sighing, the drow let go of her friend. So much for getting a chance to talk to Thralia. Stepping to the side, she watched with Aribeth as Valen stared into Thralia's eyes, the pair almost touching, but not quite. With some amusement, the drow and paladin noticed that although Thralia had to crane her neck up with Valen standing so close, it seemed it was the red-haired tiefling who was more uncomfortable.

"That was risky. You should have let us help! You could have been killed." Those were the first words out of Valen's mouth as he looked into his true love's eyes. His heart was still beating too fast, after watching her take on the arch-devil by herself. She had looked at all of them, after beating the last of the elementals Mephistoles could throw at them, and said calmly that this was her battle to finish. Alone. The tiefling hadn't agreed, wouldn't have agreed, but the paladin and Nathyrra hadn't given him a choice, saying that she could take care of herself-she had been long before she ever met Valen.

Deekin had looked relieved-he wasn't sure which was worse, facing dragons, or the big mean goat man who had kept throwing the fire and wind people at them with big pointy and sharp weapons. Letting 'Boss' take care of the arch-devil was easy for the kobold, who had happily written down the fight as he saw it, ignoring the deflected arrows that would come dangerously close to hitting him, or the stray spells.

Thralia felt her own temper flare. She was tired, feeling slightly ill from her overuse of magic, and not in the mood to be scolded. Why, Valen was acting like… her eyes widened in shock and horror as she realized something that had completely slipped her mind when Valen had first told her he loved her. Something that truthfully she had been trying to ignore since before reaching Waterdeep. Now her emerald eyes narrowed, and she reached up one hand, laying it on the tiefling's cheek. "Valen, please. Not now. I'm not feeling well, and I don't need this."

She was glad her voice didn't sound frustrated or irritate, and that she had managed to keep her words civil. Right now a lecture was not what she needed. Without waiting for Valen's response she closed the miniscule distance between them, wrapping her arms tight around Valen's waist. Pressing her cheek against his chest, she inhaled him, the sweet and spicy cinnamon smell that was all is, and so enticing.

Valen's crystalline blue eyes softened, and he reached one hand up, stroking her hair back from her face, the other hand pulling her even tighter against his armored front. Gently he ran his thumb down her angular cheekbone, coming to rest under her delicately pointed chin, lifting her face up. Slowly he leaned down, and brushed his lips just above the tops of her lips.

He tasted of cinnamon, and something that was all him, all masculine. The little taste left her wanting more, a desire filling her that was nearly crippling. "Not fair," she growled, letting one of her hand travel around to his stomach, running it up to his neck and stopping just along his jaw line. A small breath caught in her throat at the burning intensity in his wondrous eyes, and this time his kiss was not gentle. Crushing her lips against his, the tiefling's hands came to rest on either side of the elven woman's face. His tongue pushed against her lips, and they yielded, parting and allowing him access. The kiss would have continued if he hadn't been hit with something on the base of one horn.

Straightening up, with a slightly breathless Thralia clinging to him, Valen shot a glare at Aribeth, Deekin, and Nathyrra. They all looked equally guilty, though Valen had trouble picturing the kobold throwing something at the large weapon master. Nathyrra looked too innocent, but it was the paladin who spoke-which didn't mean Nathyrra hadn't thrown the object. "There are others gathering," she pointed out, waving one hand to indicate the Waterdeep residents who were coming out now that the battle was done. Two vibrant patches of color appeared in Thralia's cheeks, a matching pair to Valen's. Although Thralia was less shy than Valen, she always felt self-conscious when in a crowd, and people were looking at her personal life.

"This be good romantic ending for book! One that missing in last one, and since Deekin not write about Boss's first adventure, he not know how that went, and—" the kobold was cut off by the group's leader's exclamation. "Deekin! YOU WILL NOT WRITE THAT!"

Now Thralia's whole face was red, but there was more to it than her shyness. "In fact, you are going to give me that book, now," she said, voice quieter now, but no less intense. Valen chuckled slightly at Thralia's expense, which earned him a emerald glare. "This isn't funny," she muttered, her stomach flipping in a most decidedly uncomfortable way. A small groan escaped her as one hand flew to her stomach.

"Are you alright my love?" Valen asked, his voice now filled with concern. He reached for Thralia's hands, before remembering the crowd, and left the gesture unfinished.

"I need to lie down for a bit," the druidess said. A dark shadow, in the shape of a black panther, appeared at his mistress' side. Tierre tilted his head, keen eyes appraising his elven charge as he was her, and he knew what troubled her.

"Yes, I think you should lie down. And then you have some things to discuss," the panther said pointedly, giving Thralia a _I told you something like this was going to happen _look. Flicking his tail he stalked gracefully off towards the yawning portal, before remembering that it had been the sight of a battle. Ah, well, there really wasn't anyplace else, so the panther continued.

Before any of her companions could ask any more questions, the owner of the Yawning Portal-whose name kept slipping her mind-came up. "There's still rooms upstairs. Why don't you all get some rest while we clean up…. This?" he asked, hesitating on the last word as he glanced around at the carnage around him. There was blood, bodies, pieces of wood and other debris strewed about like some small child who had had a temper tantrum and thrown his toys around-except that these were no toys.

Relieved, Thralia began to move towards the Yawning Portal, glad of any excuse to get away from the crown and its prying eyes. Moving hurriedly she glided across the square still with grace, a grace that would have seemed more at home in a forest, but was not out of place here. Given no choice, Aribeth, Valen, and Nathyrra followed.

Thralia exchanged a few words inside with the innkeeper's wife, and climbed up the stairs. At the top she indicated four rooms. "Nathyrra, that's yours, and next one is Deekin's, and then yours Aribeth," she said, pointing to three doors together on the right side. "And this one is, ah, ours," Thralia continued, after a little hesitation, pointing to the one door on the left that still appeared to be whole. Without saying anything, just exchanging one glance, they all headed for their respective rooms. Valen grabbed Thralia's hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it before leading her into the room. He turned to her, eyes once again smoldering with that powerful desire, but the elf just shook her head. "Not now Valen. Please, I just want to sleep," she said, allowing her regret to filter into her eyes. Valen sighed, and reached out to caress his love's cheek.

"You look like you need it," he commented. Thralia just nodded, making her way over to the large bed and falling ungracefully onto it. She leaned back, getting comfortable, having taken her armor off after the battle as it had been ripped to pieces. Valen joined her, after stripping off his plate armor and leaving him in a fairly clean tunic and britches. He pulled Thralia into his arms and murmured soft, soothing, loving words into her hair, the rhythm of which she fell asleep to.

There was the smell of rainforest, and the feel of skin against her skin, and the taste of rick dark chocolate mixed with the warm tropical scent that was all his. Her heart pounded, and Thralia awoke, startled because the dream had seemed so real, and found herself not in that man's arms. Biting her lip, she stared at the ceiling, afraid to return to sleep, and not wanting to wake Valen by moving. Instead she pondered how she was going to explain this small problem to Valen… and him.

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	2. Revealed

_**Disclaimer:** I still do not own Neverwinter Nights or any of the characters or places or stuff associated. The only thing that is my own is most of the dialogue and Thralia Latoness, and maybe one or two side characters._

_Thanks to **Lady Evania** for the review, and correcting me about Mephistoles . Also, the last chapter was really short, and more of a prelude than anything else. Again, reviews appreciated. Also, everything isn't going to be as completely true to form as it should be; character personalities' I will stick to, but I might bend the rules a little bit elsewhere… and shatter one or two._

_Onto The Story_

Nathyrra looked into her ale, pondering her situation. Sighing, the drow lifted the mug to her lips, taking a sip of the bitter drink. Across from her sat-or, more precisely perched-Aribeth, the half-elven paladin, her translucent form appearing more solid than it had been in days. Setting the ale down Nathyrra looked at Aribeth. "So, any ideas what you are going to do now?" she asked, raising one white eyebrow on her angular face.

Aribeth tilted her head, glowing strands of hair falling across her face. "I was thinking of returning to Neverwinter. Though I was condemned for my crimes, I still wish to protect the city and her people. Of course, part of me wishes to hear what Thralia and Valen plan to do now, as I can not see the two of them separating." A mischievous grin lit the normally reticent paladin's face. "I can't help but think it's a wonder we can get them to get up some days," she said in an innocent voice.

Nathyrra nearly choked on her drink. She had not expected that sort of comment from Aribeth. The paladin gave her a concerned glance, and the drow woman just shook her head, recovering and then smiling. "I think you've been hanging around Valen and me too long," she commented. Aribeth gave a non-committal shrug, and then glanced out the window. "Well, it is growing rather late." It was night; the weary companions had retired sometime in the early morning, and now it was well past midnight, and still no sign of Valen or Thralia… or Deekin. "And where has that kobold got to, I wonder?" Aribeth asked aloud, tapping a finger against her lips in thought.

Nathyrra set her ale down, scowling. "Knowing Deekin he's probably writing down everything we're saying, or he's eavesdropping on someone else. He really has no sense of personal stuff or privacy. But, he is still cute in a way that just prevents me from wanting to strangle him sometimes." Shrugging her shoulders she glanced around the otherwise deserted tavern room, noticing how even the flame in the large hearth seemed to be settling in for the night. "Hmm… flip a coin for who gets to go check on Valen and Thralia?"

(POV switch)

Lying there, staring at the ceiling, Thralia Latoness felt a crippling depression creep over her. She had no idea how she was going to explain her little 'problem'. Especially since she knew how insecure Valen was about her feelings for him. As many times as she had said it, the hard-headed tiefling still seemed to think that she would wake up one morning and find him a repulsive monster; or, worse for Valen, a mildly interesting oddity that was to be tried and discarded. A weary sigh escaped her lips.

"Awake, my love?" The few whispered words in beside her sent shivers down her spine, as his warm breath tickled her sensitive ears. The arm that was holding her loosely against him tightened, bringing her slightly on top of him as he curled his arm inward.

Valen gazed into the deep emerald eyes of the one woman who meant everything to him. It was a frightening thought, knowing that you would do anything, give anything, to make sure that one person came to no harm. Reaching his free hand up he brushed the tawny hair-a silky blend of deep mahogany to a rich rowan wood to a light cedar-away from her elegant and aristocratic face. Most people with a face like hers could be considered snooty, but the way she wore her hair so casually, brushing her shoulders in a carefully uneven fall, and the burning intensity in her slanted eyes, along with a pale scar crossing her face from the middle of her left eyebrow disappearing at a angle up into her hairline, gave the elf the appearance of a adventurer, alibi one who was open, but not naïve, and would get the job done.

Frowning, he ran a thumb along the skin underneath both of her eyes, where the skin had a purplish hue to it, and was papery to the touch. "You did not get much rest." It wasn't a question, and Thralia knew better than to argue, even though she wished to deny it.

"I couldn't." Reflexively she started to push away, to try and get up before stopping. How desperately she wanted to kiss him, to have him hold her, to forget all about the rest of the world… but she couldn't do that. As much as she might be loathe to return to it, she had another life outside of adventuring, one that included returning to Neverwinter.

Two crystalline blue eyes watched her carefully, waiting for more of an explanation, an almost cold edge to them. That distressed her, seeing him so ready to assume the worst. On the other hand, it was starting to annoy her. Really, he should know by now to trust her! "It has nothing to do with you, my love," Thralia said, her tone far sharper and laced with a bitterness that had not been at all intended. Regret flashed briefly in her eyes as she watched Valen retreat into himself, donning his 'armor' to protect him from her words. But Valen would still give as good as he got if she started a fight now, and there was no point in taking her frustrations out on him. Lowering her head slightly she kissed his smooth lips, which remained unresponsive, indicating that he was still upset with her. And he did have a reason to be upset with her, Thralia couldn't argue that… but she was becoming even more hesitant to bring up her 'problem'.

"I'm sorry. I'm just tired," the arcane archer said, resting the side of her cheek against the weapon master's warm chest. She inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of cinnamon, and a hint of apple, like some exotic spiced cider. She could feel the moment Valen relaxed, the one arm still wrapped around her giving her a quick squeeze while he raised his other hand and stroked her hair with it.

"You need to get some rest," Valen said, his voice filled with reproof. "But something is on your mind, and it will do no good to tell you to get some rest until you get it off your chest." There was a reluctant smile on his face; he knew that Thralia, when she had something preoccupying her mind, would not let it go even to rest. "I suppose we-" He was interrupted be a loud knocking on the door. There was a moment's pause, and then the person on the other side spoke.

(POV switch)

Nathyrra had lost the coin toss, seeming to have misplaced her usual good luck. She was tempted to sit there and do nothing, but she wanted to talk with Thralia, and Valen, and she figured if she left the two of them to themselves then she wouldn't be able to speak to either of them until the next day. As she was already up, the drow decided they could get up too. Still slightly miffed about losing the coin toss, she withdrew a dagger and, flipping it around so the tip was pointed at herself, pounded on the door with the leather bound hilt. After a couple hard raps she flipped the dagger back around and slipped it into the sheath in the small of her back.

"Thralia! Valen! You have five minutes to get up before I come in!" the drow threatened. She was entirely serious too; a simple thing like a locked door would not deter her for more than a second. A few words in what sounded like elvish and she was pretty sure was a curse were yelled at her from the other side of the door. Grinning, her good mood restored, Nathyrra crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. "Four and a half minutes!" she called.

(POV switch)

Thralia felt a sinking feeling the moment Nathyrra called out from the other side of the door. She had hoped that she would have had some more time to prepare what she had to say to her companions. Sighing she exchanged a rueful glance with Valen. Moving her arms to either side of Valen's head she made as if to push herself up again, but was roughly brought down again, her lips crashing against Valen's in a passionate whirl of cinnamon and the forest after a rainfall, mixed with the scent of sweat and brimstone. Lips parting slightly, Thralia's eyes almost glowed with a inner fire that the tiefling had stirred.

Now suddenly more resentful of Nathyrra, and her time limit-Thralia had no doubt that Nathyrra would indeed open the door if they weren't out in five minutes-she shouted a few words of her native language, eyes sparking with a good humor, even if she did look irritated. Nathyrra's rebuttal made the druidess roll off of Valen and off the side of the bed, falling lightly to the floor in a crouch.

Valen almost growled with frustration at Nathyrra's interruption. Her timing was always so disruptive… sighing he propped himself up on one arm, content to wait a little bit longer before getting ready. His sharp eyes watched every movement as his elven lover stripped her tunic off and replaced it with a clean tunic of a rich forest green that brought out the lighter shades of green in her eyes. It hugged her gentle curves, and was belted with a leather strip around her waist. Now she shimmied out of her worn breeches, grabbing up a pair of clean ones-after first checking that they were hers. One morning, exhausted from fighting, she had tried to wear Valen's breeches, becoming increasingly frustrated when they wouldn't fit right. When the tiefling, laughing softly, had come up behind her holding her pants, she had snatched them with an affronted look.

Lastly she ran a fine bone comb through her hair, jerking through the knots. "I'm coming!" she called out to Nathyrra, before throwing Valen's clothes at him. "You need to get dressed too," she said, placing her hands on her hips. Again a smile touched Valen's lips. Most women had their fingers facing forward, but she had her thumbs pointing out, backwards to what the majority did. Moving over she stopped, briefly bending down to tug on supple leather boots enchanted with a hasting effect. Leaning over him, her hair brushed against his eyelashes.

"You can get up, or I can let Nathyrra in," she said in her rich voice that was not light and airy like so many elves, but rich and full, sounding more of earth than air. It was till distinctly feminine though, but not shrill or as high pitched as most women. Valen reached one hand up, intending to catch her chin and bring her down for a kiss, but Thralia jerked her head away, laughter sparkling in her eyes as she backed towards the door.

Swinging his legs out of the bed Valen removed his tunic, and was rewarded by Thralia's gave moving over his sculpted chest. Giving her a slow, lazy-and almost predatory-smile the tiefling reached back, removing the leather strap that held his red hair back from his face. "It's not nice to tease," he said, though his tone of voice was contrary to what his words were saying.

"Same goes for you," Thralia threw back, forcing herself to look at Valen's face. She was aware that she was blushing, and it annoyed her to no end that her tiefling could make her blush so easily. _Wait a second-my tiefling?_ The thought, so possessive, made her frown for a second. However, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she did feel somewhat possessive of Valen-especially with some of the looks he got from other women. He was very handsome, and while the horns and tail might deter or disgust a few, they often made others curious. This line of questioning reminded her of her problem, and her eyes darkened.

Turning around she moved over to the door, briefly pausing to unlock it before yanking it open and startling the drow outside, who had a set of lock picks in her hands. "Thralia, you're up!" Nathyrra exclaimed, quickly replacing her lockpicks from wherever she had gotten them from before Valen could notice. Flashing the elf a bright smile as she straightened up, the smile faded to be replaced by a concered expression. "What's-" she never got the chance to finish.

"I'll tell you in a moment," Thralia said, challenging Nathyrra with a look. The dark elf looked taken aback, and a twinge of guilt hit the druidess. She didn't have to be so rude to Nathyrra-it wasn't like the drow woman had done what she was doing. Unable to apologize without losing her nerve to continue on with this course-how she wanted to ignore this fact, to bury it in some small dark corner and let it fade it darkness-Thralia brushed past Nathyrra and began descending the stairs, a small kobold quickly scampering after her with pen and parchment in hand.

Nathyrra gave Deekin's back an odd look; she could have sworn the landing was empty. Wherever the bard/dragon disciple had been she hadn't seen him, that was for certain. "We'll be downstairs," she called into the room still containing Valen before following the others down the stairs.

Valen was momentarily thrown. One moment he had been teasing Thralia, enjoying the faint blush that colored her face, and the next she had walked away, posture stiff and hunched at the same time. Wasting no time he finished changing, hesitating before leaving his armor and weapons where they were. There was no reason he should need them at this time of night here. He was worried; Thralia was not a easy woman to upset. There were a couple ways to get to her quickly-through friends, and animals. She couldn't stand it if any animal was in pain. The irony was that she was hardly a vegetarian-she had no objections to eating meat as long as she was sure that the deaths of the creatures in question were not prolonged in any manner.

For Thralia Latoness, the hero of Waterdeep and Undredtide-little did Valen know of her other titles-to be so disturbed did not bode well. Making the tiefling more uneasy was that he had a feeling whatever her problem was, it was personal, having nothing to do with combat.

(POV switch)

Sitting in the chair closest to the fire at the table, Thralia closed her eyes, listening to the scrape of table legs on the floor as first Deekin, and then Nathyrra, pulled out their chairs. It was quiet in the common room except for the cheerful crackling of the flames in the hearth behind her-if she listened, she could catch a little bit of the fire's words-and she knew that she was the cause for her companion's silence. With the scraping of a third chair on the floor, this was close to her, and the pressure of a large hand resting on top of her small slim one, Thralia opened her eyes.

She made one mistake then-she looked at Valen, looked into those stunning blue eyes that had captivated her from the first moment she had saw him. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt a rising surge of despair. Now. It would be better to get this out quick and fast.

Tearing her eyes away from Valen, Thralia fixed her gaze on the wall between Aribeth and Nathyrra, hardly even noticing the kobold's presence. "I know you Aribet know a little about me, but you've forgotten most of it. All of you… I have some things to explain." She held up one hand, forestalling any interruptions. "Please, just let me finish. I was-am-the supposed hero of Neverwinter, Undredtide, and now Waterdeep. I am not from Neverwinter, but the place where I grew up has been closed to me. My family and I had some… disagreements." There was only the slightest edge of bitterness to her tone-otherwise it was empty of emotion. "In Neverwinter I was just finishing my training at the academy when the Wailing Death came. I helped to find a cure, and when it was called for I went after those who had instigated the plague. Eventually it led to a confrontation in which I was forced to kill Aribeth. I was a tool of Nasher's, and had many high 'friends' and allies. Neverwinter became my home, and still is, so I would like to return there." Taking a breath, Thralia could see the others beginning to speak, could sense Valen ready to reply.

"There is more… and this is something I forgot about. It is part of the reason I was off adventuring in the first place, and in all the excitement I forgot the events that had transcended since graduating at the academy." Melikki help her, she was going to lose her nerve. She wasn't going to be able to do this. Gritting her teeth, she continued. "I forgot that I was a knight of Neverwinter, that I was duty bound there. I forgot that I have a house there. I forgot… I forgot that I currently living with and am lover to the spymaster of Neverwinter, Aarin Gend."

_End Of Chapter_

_DunDunDun! A cliffhanger! Review-you know, press the little button in the lower corner-and the next chapter will come up faster. They will get progressively longer, I promise. And there are a few plot twists that will have some foreshadowing here, so pay attention and you may just be able to figure them out! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, or even if you didn't, you probably at least read it, which is all I'm really asking for. Until next chapter!_


	3. Storm Brewing

**_Disclaimer: Still don't own anything related to NWN…_**

_Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Tests are a real pain…_

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Valen had been ready to tell Thralia he could care less where she lived as long as he lived with her. However, he closed his mouth as she made a motion for him to be silent, now feeling impatient as he wondered what else could possibly be bothering her. Then she spoke, and his world came to a halt.

"What?" the tiefling asked, back stiff, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't have heard right. He was mistaken; Thralia had said something else that was all. But he couldn't conceal the facts from himself. He knew that he was not Thralia's first, just as she was not his. They had both accepted that, and it was fine. However, this… this was something else entirely.

The cold blue eyes bored into her relentlessly, and she could sense him silently begging her to tell him that he had misheard her, that she didn't really have a lover waiting at home. The room spun, and, and for a moment the druidess wondered if she would be ill. The moment passed, though her mouth was dry and her tongue felt oddly heavy and thick. Clearing her throat, she attempted to speak, looking at Valen. "I did not remember, it wa-" she was pleading, and was cut off mid-word as Valen stood up, all emotion gone from his face. A sharp lance of pain hit her, and she too stood up, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder, to convey to him that he was her everything, that Aarin was a mere inconvenience, inconsequential to their relationship, but the tiefling never gave her that chance. Callously he brushed her hand away in one angry gesture.

That hadn't been what she had been expecting. Nathyrra felt pretty close to Thralia, and thought she knew the elven woman well. This though, this was unlike her. The arcane archer did not just forget people-there must have been some sort of falling out beforehand, which would explain why she carefully avoided all subjects of her past friendships in the beginning of their journey together, merely saying that they had not gone so well.

For all that she was shocked, Valen looked like someone had struck him a blow. And then, rather than denying what she had said, Thralia had confirmed it, and Valen looked murderous. The weapon-master radiated anger and loathing-and a sudden fear struck her. Valen had been an oddity to the drow women, and many had wanted to try the tiefling as a bedmate. Nathyrra wasn't always around, and she was sure that at some point Valen's self-confidence had been given a beating, which was why he had only confessed his love for her friend when Nathyrra had nearly frozen solid.

Valen never had had a good self-image, what with him losing himself to his demonic side and then later being unable to recall what happened. Thralia had lifted the taint from him and even before she had done that had refused to leave behind her love for anyone or anything. Now… now it must surely all seem like a lie to the big tiefling. The look of shock on the drow's face was replaced by one of dawning horror, and she rose, transfixed, mouth parted slightly, not sure what to do, but knowing that she had to do something, anything.

She had confirmed it. Why? Why had she put forth so much effort to appear to love him, to bring him along, to encourage and support him and need him every step of the way? Anger flowed through him, and he almost wished that he still held that demonic taint to his blood so that he could use that irrational anger, so later he would not be able to remember his actions. Now though, now he felt like someone had taken a blanket of stinging nettles and wrapped him in it.

"Don't. I don't want any of your excuses, adventurer. I will be outside for some air if there is some legitimate reason for you to need me. " The voice was cruel, and sharp, and with that last barb Valen turned on his heel, heading to the door, yanking open the heavy wood and walking out, letting the door slam behind him. He did not notice that as the door hung open suspended for a moment a dark black shadow with four feet slipped out after him.

Tears stung her eyes, and a ragged breath tore into her chest. Thralia didn't even realize when her knees gave out, just that now Nathyrra and Aribeth were looking down on her, rather than up. He hadn't even given her a chance to explain herself. Even as she spoke she could see him withdrawing from her, pulling away mentally and emotionally. Then… then he had asked her to confirm. How desperately she wanted to take back her words then, to smile and say it was all just some silly game. Thralia was not the type to lie though; she hated liars with a passion, and was known for being brutally honest sometimes, though only to people who annoyed her. So, being herself, Thralia had started to tell him the truth.

The part of her that was bound to the wood, to the wild, stirred in anger. That part of her was dangerous, wild, and completely irrational. It simultaneously thrilled her and terrified her, and so far her friends had not caught enough glimpses of it to be sure that it indeed existed. A shiver wracked the elf's slim frame, and worriedly Aribeth put a hand on her friend's shoulder. The druidess flinched away from the contact, eyes, eyes that looked hunted, gazing up through the mess of tawny hair.

"Thralia?" the paladin asked, now hesitant. There was an anger lurking in the corner of the emerald eyes, and she began to wonder if she would have to use a sleep spell on Thralia. Then, as suddenly as it was there, it was gone. Thralia's shoulders slumped forward, and her head hung low.

"I didn't-I love him! How-how could he think that I would want to hurt him?" the distraught elf asked of the drow and half-elf, voice raw with pain. Was she so cool as to leave the impression that she would purposely hurt her love? What had she done to make him think her capable of such deceit? True, crossing Thralia Latoness could lead to revenge, but she always made it clear who she hated, and didn't. Deceit-she just couldn't do it. Even if she tried, she felt that she would fail, miserably so.

Nathyrra let out a disgust noise, before gracefully sitting down on the floor next to Thralia, folding her legs to one side. After a moment Arieth too sat down, looking slightly less comfortable on the floor. Really, Nathyrra thought, Valen could be so pig-headed and thick. It was hard too, though, because Nathyrra was hurt that Thralia hadn't told her either until just minutes ago. "You could have told us," she rebuked the wizard, disgruntled.

"Oh Nathyrra…" Thralia looked up, her face a mass of confusion. "I truly forgot. And I wanted to forget." There was steel in her voice now, and the emerald eyes were steely. "I did not leave Neverwinter on the best of terms with Aarin or Nasher. Though likely both will have forgotten by now-Nasher especially. He only remembers me when he wants to show off to foreign ambassadors." The barest traces of bitterness laced her words. Then she shrugged, and now there was anger to her voice.

"That doesn't excuse me for forgetting, but neither does it excuse Valen for not even hearing me out!" The last was said in a near shout, and hastily Nathyrra made a shushing motion. All forgotten in one corner sat the kobold, scribbling on his parchment hastily, though he looked upset. The boss and the goat man were not happy with each other, and he couldn't understand why. They were good together, and the goat man made the boss happy.

In a quieter voice, but no less angry, Thralia continued. "What have I ever done to make him think that I would try to hurt him? Did I ever give him any indication that I did love him with all my heart?" she demanded of her two companions.

"The heart is not a subject that I am best informed on," Aribeth said, her voice dry. Immediately the wizard reached out a hand and touched the paladin's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting." Aribeth gave the elf a wan smile, and waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm still not completely sure what true love is, and sometimes I wonder if I even want it," she admitted, shrugging.

"I may not be an expert on love, but I do know Valen far better than each of you. I'm not defending him-that is his job, as it will be to apologize to you-but give him a chance. Don't block him out; I've seen you do it, and he won't push if you won't yield. He's wary of women, and you know why. He's not sure what he's done to deserve you, and it makes perfect sense to him that he should be set aside. My opinion is that he's scared, scared because the last time he felt so strongly about someone she was killed, and he remembers the pain of that. Now he fears that he's losing you. Honestly, he just wants you, Thralia. He-have you ever watched him watch you? It's like you're the center of his world. Additionally, he has every right to feel jealous. Believe it or not, but humans and a great deal of other races besides elves are attracted to you surface elves, and you are successful and powerful. You don't need his protecting, and now he doesn't know what to do, and-oh, you get the idea." Shaking her head, Nathyrra let out a sigh. "Just don't be too hard on him."

Thralia sighed, and though the anger still simmered in her, she hid it from her friends. "I'll think about it," she promised, getting to her feet, using the back of the chair to help her up. Extending her hands to her companions she assisted them up, stifling a yawn that was only partially faked. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to get some more sleep," she said, adding another yawn. Stifling her own yawn, Nathyrra nodded agreement to the idea, and headed towards the stairs.

Aribeth glanced at Thralia, worry in her eyes. She knew that Thralia wasn't going up to bed. Ah, well, there was very little Aribeth could do about it. Thralia was her friend, her equal, not her charge. "Just be careful. And-and don't go doing anything you'll regret." With that, the paladin made her way up the stairs, notlooking back even as her keen hearing caught the sound of the inn door falling shut with a soft click.

Valen was steaming with anger. How long had she been playing with him, planning the ways to draw out her own pleasure and his before betraying him like that? He knew, _knew_, that she had been no good. From the moment he had seen her, he had marked her as trouble. A thought nagged at him, trying to remind him that he was the one who had been wrong, that she wasn't going to betray the Seer. He dismissed it, wanting to be angry, because anger was familiar to him, because he knew how to deal with anger, and how to use it.

While it was near pitch-black to human eyes, to Valen it was a late twilight outside, still clear enough to see things clearly, but without too much detail. A growl of anger escaped him, as he wished he had his flail and a practice target. That would do some good, practicing his fighting on something that he could crush to smithereens. That option was not open to him, so he walked past the scaffolding that was the start of rebuilding the damage done by their battle here. He kept walking until he came to the outer wall, where he climbed up to the top. Once up there he sat on the ramparts, brooding.

"You are a right fool. And a coward to boot." The panther—Tierre, Thralia's oldest friend—sat down behind Valen, glaring at him with accusing eyes. "And then you go stomping out, and sit up here brooding. How mature." The sarcasm laced in the large cat's voice grated on Valen's nerves. The tiefling turned to face the cat, blue eyes glowing in the dark eerily.

"Are you telling me you believe her? That she just conveniently forgot that she still has a, a lover?" Valen asked, ignoring the pain that thinking of the word lover and his Thralia in the same sentence caused. "People don't just forget that kind of thing," he added, voice cold.

Tierre briefly considered the merits of eating the tiefling against the problems that would cause. If he ate the tiefling he would be rid of a constant source of annoyance, as well as frustration, and get a meal. On the other hand, tiefling would more than likely taste awful, and while he was a thick-headed and stupid creature, his Thralia did give him her heart-and he still held it. So instead of eating the weapons-master, the cat growled some well-chosen obscenities in his animal tongue.

"You didn't even bother listening, fool," the cat growled, getting up and pacing a step closer to Valen. "You were too focused on believing the worse of her. You should be ashamed, the way you jump to conclusions. She did forget, and it wasn't all her fault." The cat hesitated briefly, knowing that if Thralia were to ever hear the next part of this conversation she would surely find some new animal companion.

Tail lashing in irritation, the cat sat down again, golden eyes trained on the tiefling. "She is not a tame creature, and when she gets a notion into her head she will see it through, no matter what the cost." The large panther hesitated, wondering, since he was already on the subject, whether he should tell the tiefling the whole of the story. A hiss escaped between ivory fangs as Tierre scolded himself soundly for even considering the idea. It was foolish, and he had not been granted speech to others just to blab all of Thralia's secrets. "However much she tries to be her own self, though, there always seems to be something that prevents her. A city needs saving, a war needs stopping… typical humans and their short-lived problems. Thralia is too damn soft hearted for her own good. She more stubborn then any ass of donkey I've ever encountered, and she has a temper to watch a griffin. My point is, for some reason beyond me she seems to have fallen in love with you. And if you hurt her, more than you already have-" here the cat was less than a foot away, eyes boring into Valen's face with a fierce expression "I will make you my next meal. No one hurts her just to hurt her. If you drag out any part of her pain, well…" the panther chuckled darkly "we'll just have to play a little game of cat-and-mouse."

Having said his part, and not sure whether or not it had been a good idea at all to come and talk to the tiefling, Tierre turned, tail striking the weapon-master's cheek as the dark being slipped into the shadows and was gone.

Valen shook himself, as if free of some invisible bonds. While Thralia's animal companion had been busy talking to him he had been incapable of speaking or moving, like the cat had paralyzed him momentarily. Which, now that he thought of it, the cat could have done. There was little love lost between panther and tiefling; Tierre was sure Valen was a large packet of trouble and pain, and Valen was sure the panther was trying to make his life hell.

It was because Tierre never came and spoke to him like that, in such civil tones, that it bothered the tiefling. Self-doubt assaulted him, and he once again thought back to a two days ago, right before he, Nathyrra, Deekin, Aribeth, Tierre and Thralia had been ready to enter the portal to Waterdeep. Thralia had laid a hand on his arms, and before he could ask she spoke, and the name she spoke resonated with power, and he knew that it was _his_ name, his being, contained in those words. _Oakesthine Demonwrestler_, she had said, eyes weird with power, _I lift from you the taint of demon, and free you forever from its dark touch. _It had been like he had fallen into a river, a cool flow of neutral air around him, lifting away the dark taint. At the time he had thought it was just for love, but then she had used her other allies true names, and freed them of their burdens too. Was that the type of woman capable of playing with someone's emotions to hurt them? Irritation made the tiefling frown, drumming his fingers against the rough stone of the wall. He didn't want to think rationally, because he was already starting to think he over-reacted, and if he had, that meant that he had to apologize; that was not something common to the tiefling, except for when he was apologizing for his demon, which was no longer with him.

Thralia frowned at the reflection in the puddle under the moon. Two green eyes glared back at her, and with a toe she touched the water, sending rippled through the water that distorted the reflection. She had been very close to snapping back there, and she wondered if she had made the right decision. It had seemed best at the time, and after all she had been through, what was a bit of demon taint? Now though… it seemed almost natural to want to strangle someone, particularly Valen. Eyes flashing with anger, the elf snarled a spell for mage light, shoulders hunched slightly in her confusion.

Things were not going well, not at all. Her emotions were raw and close to the surface, ready to go from one extreme to the other. What she needed to be was calm and restrained. Sighing, Thralia let her hand rest against the wooden trunk of an oak, letting the solid familiarity of the tree's presence soothe her roiling emotions. Earth, one of the five principal elements; Air, Water, Earth, Fire, and Spirit. Spirit was the fifth element that most people forgot about, and was both shadow and light, good and evil. That was the thing, the druidess reflected, about her order. Druids tended to be mostly neutral as far as laws, but had good hearts for the most part. It didn't make them a lot of friends, because they would not commit themselves to stand on one side of the law or the other, but they were strong and loyal allies.

Feeling calmer and more refreshed, the elf moved away from the tree, silently going over sigils and runes for spell-casting, until she was sure that her composure was back. She was still angry, but she had a right to be; all she asked was for Valen to hear her out, but he hadn't even bothered doing that. A slight tug on her connection with Tierre-she remembered seeing her panther slip out after the tiefling-told her that Valen was up on the wall.

The soft footfalls behind Valen could only have belonged to one person. Without turning his head away from the lands outside of the main city of Waterdeep he extended his senses, wary of what was to come next. He was half-expecting some sort of apology, but that didn't seem to fit somehow.

"Do you ever listen? Or are you to self-absorbed with all your flaws that you are so sure you have that you never bother to notice that others have flaws too?" Thralia asked, piercing emerald orbs boring a hole in Valen's back. Valen turned on the elf, rising as he did, towering over her. For an elf she was exceptionally tall, taller than a great deal of human women, but she was still willowy and the weapons-master towered over her. That didn't stop the elf from glaring right into Valen's chest now, as she refused to have to look up at him. For some reason, that really irritated the tiefling, and he roughly grabbed her chin in one large, calloused hand, forcing her to look up at him. Anger flashed in those green depths as he did so, and a small surge of satisfaction went through him. At least he was getting some response.

"Let go of me." Thralia was really starting to get fed up with Valen. She had asked him some questions, and he hadn't answered them. And now he was almost standing on top of her, holding her face captive in his hand. The sharp tone of command in her voice only served to remind Valen of why he was upset with her, and he let his hand drop away, to his side.

"What am I supposed to say?" Vale asked, bitter anger coloring his words. "I knew-I knew that I wasn't your first, just like you knew that you weren't my first, but I sure as hells wasn't expecting for you to still be living with someone! Not only that, but you wait until now to tell me. After you've lifted the demon taint from me, and we've traveled across the hells together, you always keeping me close to you even when I was more of a hindrance than a help due to my blood." One hand came up, Valen brushing his knuckles lightly against Thralia's cheek, pain in his eyes.

"I thought you were different from all the drow women, just wanting to try me because I'm different. I thought that you might actually care about me. Then-then you go and do that, and expect me just to be fine?!" Valen hadn't meant to raise his voice in the last part, intending to sound almost bored, but angain that anger and pain had flared.

"You didn't even let me finish!" Thralia cried, thoroughly annoyed because he still wasn't letting her speak. Jabbing one forefinger against his armored chest she glared at the hollow of his neck, not wanting to hurt her neck craning to look up at such a short distance. "You just immediately jumped to conclusions, assuming the worst! I did forget, honestly, and when I remembered it I didn't want to because I don't love Aarin like I love you!" That last had slipped out, and the wide-eyed expression conveyed her surprise.

Valen's anger dissipated before her almost horrified expression. The tiefling was not the best at expressing emotions, but Thralia was just as bad as he was, if not worse. The elven maid was fiercely loyal, but she kept much of herself to herself. He had the impression that no one person knew everything about her; that she always held a little of herself back. Perhaps he had over reacted, and it didn't seem like Thralia was planning on leaving him. A sigh escaped the tiefling master as he looked down into the druidess's face.

Reaching out a hand he gripped the elf's small chin in it, not letting her look away or flee. "I-I'm sorry," he started, hesitating over the words. "I should have let you explain. It's just that sometimes I have to wonder what someone like you is doing with me. I'm not exactly considered a good mate by most." His grip softened as he stroked her cheek with his calloused hand, marveling at the soft smooth skin.

Thralia still wanted to be angry. She didn't want to forgive him right now, because she wanted some excuse to be angry. Before she had walked here she would have been satisfied with the apology, but she had stopped to briefly listen to the night creatures and the trees, gleaning what news there was in the conversations. "That's just it Valen; you don't trust me." The tone was flat, and as she spoke she pulled away from her tiefling, looking out over the walls into the darkness outside of the city. "You didn't believe me when I first came to the Underdark, and I said that I would never betray the Seer. Hells, I don't think you trusted me until you saw my body, and the Valsharess's body." It was easy to let her voice become filled with spite, even as she felt guilty for taking out her frustration on her love. It was worse, because she knew Valen would take it, and that too infuriated her at the moment. At least Aarin would have told her to stop behaving like a spoiled noble. "I need someone who trusts me. Not someone who's watching my every move, waiting for betrayal." Without warning the elf pushed away from the wall, stiff, and turned to go down the stairs from the wall.

Valen knew that everything she said was true, but he did trust her. He didn't trust himself, but he also knew that if he said anything now Thralia would just turn it against him. As much as he hated doing so, he would just have to take it and let her go, because otherwise he would drive a wedge between them that would not be easily broken down. Nothing he did right now would be the right thing, whether he reached out for her and pulled her to him, or let her walk away. Everything he did would upset her further, and it made him want to take her and shake some sense into her. There was something else bothering her, but she was so sure that anything that troubled her wasn't anything anyone else would be interested in, and so she would keep it to herself, until it came to a boiling point and spilled from her.

It hurt that Valen hadn't reached out, to stop her from going. It hurt that he hadn't pulled her close, told her that everything would be all right. At the same time the druidess knew she would have pushed away any attempt to comfort her, saying that she wasn't some empty-headed girl who needed coddling, that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. So distracted was she by being alternatively furious with herself and Valen and the world in general that she didn't see the person in her path until she bumped into them.

"Sorry," she snapped, hardly sounding apologetic at all. Meaning to brush by, it caught Thralia off guard when a hand grabbed her arm. The first rash impulse she had was to try and throw her attacker off her, but… she wasn't exactly the best person for hand-to-hand combat. Blasting him with a spell also seemed like a good choice, though reason told her that there was probably some reason for the stranger grabbing her arm. "Yes?" she hissed out, tone icy. For some reason she had went with the more rational of her solutions, not venting her anger on the unsuspecting stranger, but that didn't mean she had to be nice.

"_Buria. _Lord Nasher wishes you to come to Neverwinter with all due haste. Additionally, Aarin sends his regards, and hopes that your wanderlust has been sufficiently satisfied." The stranger finished speaking, let go of Thralia's, and moved off into the darkness, leaving a slightly stunned Thralia behind. _Buria_. That meant that this was a message from Aarin for her. But why so impersonal? Now she remembered. The elf hadn't exactly left Neverwinter with permission or grace, having practically stormed the gates to get out. Still, Nasher eagerly awaited the return of his 'pet' adventurer, and she really had no place else to go.  
The anger faded, as she sighed, placing her hands over her face and rubbing them in small circles. This was going to be one big disaster after another. Joyous. Simply wonderful. Return to Neverwinter, get into a spat with Nasher, lie to Aarin, avoid Valen, avoid the many-starred mages, and her druid circle. Looking back, she was reminded of why she had left. That didn't change the fact that Neverwinter was the only home that still welcomed her, and that, as much as she would vehemently deny any who asked, she did want to settle down. Just not with the dark skinned and silent spymaster of Neverwinter. Not only would she not be allowed to go out attacking bandits, Nasher would probably have her on probation for good behavior for some time too. Or she could continue wandering around the realms until some lucky bandit managed to spit her on their blade. Really, she couldn't keep watch all the time. Or, worse, she could be recalled to her homeland…. No, there wasn't much of a choice. Thralia wasn't one to run away from her problems; she would face them head on until they weren't a problem. So, it seemed she was going to Neverwinter, with one of her people's enemy, a drow, a half-elven paladin who was sentenced to death-delivered by Thralia's hand, of course-for treason, and who was still sort of dead, a kobold, and one moody tiefling who owned her heart.

"Damn."

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_More reviews encourage me to write faster!_

_And thanks to Lily Fae for the review. As for the love conflict, well, it's about to get more complicated…_

_Next Chapter:  
A moody elven druidess-wizard-arcane archer isn't the best woman to cross, nor encounter. It doesn't help when she's informed that some characters from her past are coming to visit, and she is forbidden from leaving Neverwinter on any account._


	4. A Bumpy Road

**Disclaimer:_ I don't own any of the characters or places used except for Thralia, Tiere, and Nelo._**

_This chapter is not one of my favorites, and I'm sorry it took so long to write. Thanks to all my reviewers, especially killsing. More to come, especially if my muse decides to cooperate with me. _

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Nathyrra could think of a dozen places that she would much rather be. Right now, sitting between Thralia and Valen astride her mare, every instinct was screaming for her to get out of the 'danger' zone. While the words exchanged between the elf and the tiefling were at least civil, there was no love lost between the pair right now. Anger and resentment still came off the arcane archer in waves, her mood echoed both by the black panther flowing silently along the ground beside her and the elven destrier that shifted under her skilled hands. Being next to Koronos, as the blue-black stallion was called, did nothing to ease her misgivings.

The large warhorse was lighter built then most horses of human knights, but no less lethal looking. Still bearing the noticeable traces of a elven mount in the refined head and curved neck, as well as the silken mane, tail, and long elegant legs, he still towered over her own small mare, who looked almost like some old nag in comparison to the splendid beast on her right. With Koronos's head at a higher height than the drow's own, and knowing that the beast was temperamental on the best of days, and prone to snap at nearby objects as a 'joke', the former assassin wished fervently that she was riding back with Aribeth, their rear-guard. On the other hand, Thralia was barely speaking three words to anyone, and if she left the two of them alone, who knew what would happen. Valen was looking like he had when he had first met Thralia, brooding and suspecting her of being a backstabbing liar. Of course, in this instance the expression could be partially justified… Sighing, Nathyrra leaned back in her saddle, staring gloomily over the pricked ears of the palomino. There was no easy fix to this situation.

Thralia hadn't returned to the inn that night, instead going to the stable where her elven warhorse, Koronos, was kept. There she had curled up next to the big horse, taking some comfort in from his warmth. Thankfully Koronos had recognized that his mistress was in no mood to talk, and hadn't even done his usual head butting as a way of greeting. Still, the elf had not been able to sleep, finally getting up with the first light of dawn. Entering the inn she had seen her companions already up and eating breakfast. Ignoring her own rumbling stomach she went over to them, standing at the edge of the table until Aribeth looked up with a quizzical expression on her face. With a flash of anger, the druidess noticed how Valen studiously ignored her. Fine. Two could play that game. "I need to return to Neverwinter. I have been, ah, _summoned_, there, and I must ride with haste. If you wish to rest for a few more days I can have a guide escort you to Neverwinter, but I am leaving today." While speaking she had addressed her words to the paladin and ex-assassin, standing partially with her back to the weapons master, ignoring the look she could sense him sending her.

"Of course we're coming with you now," Aribeth said, concern for her friend flashing briefly through her eyes. It was apparent that Thralia had spent a sleepless night last night, the skin under her vibrant emerald eyes looking almost bruised. For an elf Thralia was relatively young, and not for the first time Aribeth had to wonder what a pureblooded elf so young was doing out in the human world. Elves were fiercely protective of their children, since there were so few. The fact that Thralia had left her home some while before Aribeth had met her the first time told her that there was some large disgrace or tragedy in her past. It almost hurt that Thralia spoke so little about her past, when she knew all about Aribeth's own life so well, and Valen's and Nathyrra's too. While the paladin's emotions were like an open book, the elf's past was closed off to all.

"Very well then. We leave in half and hour. I already have mounts picked out for all of you. Nathyrra, you have the palomino mare Calleo, Aribeth you have a dappled-grey gelding called Aspen, both human horses." For a brief moment something flickered in Thralia's eyes as she debated whether or not to ignore Valen completely, and then decided that aggravating him so early in the day might not be the best thing, even though it would give her some bitter satisfaction. "Valen, most horses won't take tieflings. I couldn't find one that I would trust to actually make it to Neverwinter alive-" Thralia knew her animals, especially her talking beasts and horses, and hated seeing the rotten conditions so many were kept in-"so you'll be taking my roan mare. She's the elven runner, next to Koronos. Her name is Arrnatari." A small grim smile curled her lips up as she turned, walking out of the common room without another backwards glance. She had neglected to warn Valen that Koronos was no well-behaved horse, and that Arrnatari, or Snow Queen in common, was sweet on the surface, but a most demanding and pushy mare that was upset with the tiefling because he had upset her mistress. That, and Arrnatari held contempt for most males of any species.

Feeling Koronos shift under her again brought Thralia back to her surroundings. Tail flicking, the black stallion snorted, tossing his head under the silken bridle. The druidess used no bits on any of her horses, which normally would cause difficulty for her companions, but she had spoken with all of the beasts-except for Arrnatari-asking them to behave. Valen would just have to deal with Arrnatari. "We should stop and let the horses graze soon." This was the most she had spoken since the morning in the tavern where she had announced her plan. Now she sighed, running a hand through her shoulder-length hair.

A small cheer came from behind her. "Yay! Deekin no like being up so high. He glad he no ride boss's horse. He be verrrry big." The small kobold was clinging behind Aribeth, being too small to have a horse of his own, and due to the fact that no pony would be able to keep up with the larger steeds. The bard's color seemed a little off, and judging by the way his eyes were squeezed tightly he was not enjoying the ride at all.

Nathyrra was glad of a reason to get off her mount. Not accustomed to riding, she was starting to feel sore from the saddle. "There's a clearing off to the left," she said, pointing. Not able to wait a moment longer, and without an answer, she swung her leg over the back of the mare, stifling a groan as she stood up on the ground. Her keen eyes watched as for the first time since the morning Valen and Thralia made eye contact, completely by accident. The expression on both of their faces was enough to make her want to douse both of them with a bucket of cold water to help them regain their senses.

Thralia had looked over to where Nathyrra had been, intending to speak with the drow woman about continuing on for a little farther, but all words and thoughts left her as she met Valen's ice blue eyes. It hurt seeing how hurt he was looking, the pain, the confusion, and the uncertainty in his eyes. He was so vulnerable, so emotionally unstable. Just one look made her stomach flip, and she shifted in the saddle uneasily, trying to tear her gaze away. It terrified her how much Valen mattered to her. The elf had a habit of losing the ones she cared about; whether watching them die, leaving them behind, or simply growing apart. A pang of buried sorrow struck her, and her hands clenched tightly around the reins, her eyes burning with tears that wanted to fall, but she forbid them to. The last time she had cried had been over two years ago, and she had no intent on crying now for no apparent reason. "That sounds good," she said, pleased that her voice sounded level.

Valen wanted to get closer to her, to take away the lines of worry and the marks of a sleepless night. He wanted to hold her tight to him and take her away from all of the duties that she was returning to. It wasn't fair to her, for the gods to pile one duty on top of another and expect her to always be ready for action. This time he wasn't going to be the first to ask for forgiveness. Last night he had tried, but Thralia had merely reacted by throwing around more barbed words. Upon his shoulders lay a heavy weight, for he very much feared losing her; there were so many things in the world above, this surface world, that called to her. It was hard to imagine her staying with him, a tiefling, when there were such bright and beautiful creatures of her own kind. Though, he had to admit, he had not seen many pure elves like Thralia, nor encountered any that she seemed to know personally.

Not a moment after Nathyrra's feet hit the ground Valen was swinging off his horse as well. Arrnatari was not a docile mount; she refused to wade through the mud left by wagons, and went at her own pace, deliberately keeping to the far side of the road and running him into as many branches as possible, even backing up once or twice to hit him again. Valen, unfamiliar with horses, did very little to correct her heading, though he had figured out that the mare already had a grudge against him. The lack of reaction, unfortunately for the weapons master, only encouraged the mischievous elven steed, so now that Valen was on the ground the advantage was all hers. Without warning the mare stopped, causing Valen who was walking beside her with a hand on her flank to run into her head, which she had turned around. Ears went back, and the mare stepped to the side, stepping on Valen's feet in the process. Just as suddenly as she had stopped she was moving again, pulling the silken reins out from the tiefling's hands. Snorting, Arrnatari shook her head, trotting up on the other side of Koronos and nipping at the larger beast. Wisely Koronos ignored her, and soon she lost interest, walking into the clearing where Nathyrra was sitting beside a grazing Calleo.

Koronos had halted in the clearing, waiting for his mistress to dismount. A frown was on Thralia's face, and her eyes were distant. The insistent bumping of a soft nose against her knee reminded her that she was still mounted, and frowning she slipped off the large horse, automatically loosening the girth before Koronos moved off. Idly she watched as Aribeth dismounted, more graceful than the tiefling or drow, and then held her arms up while the small kobold practically jumped off, taking only a brief look before throwing himself at the paladin, eyes closed tight again. Next her gaze traveled to Valen who was just entering the clearing. Again their eyes met, and the anger and fear boiled through her.

She hated him. She hated herself. Her emotions were irrational, and unfounded, but she was terrified. Previously she had believed herself to be in love with Aarin, and know she knew that while it had been a type of love, it was nowhere near as binding or as potent as her love with Valen. For years, since she had left her homeland, Thralia had avoided getting to close to a single person. Then she had allowed herself to get close to both Aribeth and Aarin, and then had been told to deliver her friend, the former paladin of Tyr and protector of Neverwinter, to the gates of death. It had torn her apart, turning on her friend, but after seeing what Aribeth had become, after trying to dissuade her from the path she was following, Thralia had killed her, and it had broken part of her spirit. Aarin had been her rock then, keeping her from taking out her anger and pain on the world, and stopping her from sinking into the dark depths of despair. He had helped her to heal, as much as he could, and she had been better for that. Neverwinter had become her home, and she had become its champion.  
That was all nothing to what she felt for Valen. She would die for Neverwinter, for Aarin, for Nasher, yet it was Valen who she needed to live for. Whom she had to live for. Without him her life would be meaningless, empty, and that scared her. The druidess liked to consider herself independent, free of any restraints or chains. However she knew that wherever Valen went she would follow.

The druidess couldn't face that. It was too daunting, to terrifying for her. If you became attached you could become broken. The truth was that she was hopelessly in love with the tiefling, but she though she had said as much, she balked at all the burdens and ties that came with love. Again that pointless anger welled up in her, and it was the only thing keeping back tears.

"You have that look on your face like you're going to run away from the world," Aribeth observed from behind the elf. Slowly Thralia turned to face the paladin, and there was a careful mask of emptiness on her face, concealing her emotions. "Or you're going to blow something up; I haven't quite decided which one is which yet," the paladin continued, face perfectly straight. Reluctantly a smile tugged the corner of Thralia's lips up.

"I don't know either," she told her friend, who was one of the few who never pretended to understand or judge the druidess. They had both done things that were… questionable, but they both had their hearts in the right place. The smile was gone again, replace by a dark scowl. "The horses need to graze for a while. I think-" The words froze on her lips as across the clearing Nathyrra let out a cry, standing up and drawing her short swords. Instinct kicked in, and the druidess had he arrow knocked and ready to fire when she realized what had startled the drow.

It was difficult not to laugh, so Thralia turned her face away, setting down her bow and going over to the deer that stood petrified, large eyes filled with fright. Running a hand down the doe's brown hide she sent thoughts of calm through the animal, until the doe blinked and bent down to graze. Valen and Aribeth stood behind Nathyrra, though Aribeth had replaced her bastard sword when she had seen the deer. "It's just a deer," Tierre said, yawning as he strode over to the group. "Perfectly harmless. An herbivore. Is usually afraid of people."

"Well how was I supposed to know that?" A cross Nathyrra asked. "In case you don't remember, I haven't exactly been up here to the surface before, and in the Underdark there isn't anything that _isn't_ harmful."`

The panther gave the drow a glance that spoke volumes, before turning and walking away from the group, curling up in a patch of dim sunlight. "Unless it's carrying a blade or twice as a big as a horse it's probably not harmful," Thralia said, still facing the deer. It had been a while since she had been in the forest. The feeling she had gotten when she had entered the canopy of the towering giants had been like someone filling in a hole in her being.

Now the lure of the forest was calling to her, the elements speaking to her as they would. Wind played in her air, and the faintest smell of rain came to the elf's keen senses. Taking a step forward, she let herself sink into the forest, her consciousness spreading out, becoming part of the forest.

Watching Thralia, Valen saw the moment when her eyes closed and her body went lax. Concern and worry stabbed him, and forgetting about being angry with her, he stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. There was no reaction at all. Throwing a glance back at Nathyrra and Aribeth he saw the same confusion on their faces as he imagined must be on his own. Thralia wasn't behaving like herself, and none of them had any idea why.

This part of the Neverwinter Woods wasn't familiar to her, so she did not expect to find any familiar presences. Similar essences, yes, but not any one presence that she could name. So when she encountered the being that she knew her shock sent her violently back into her body. The transition was rough, and she staggered backwards slightly, mouth forming a silent cry as she felt herself begin to fall backwards-and was stopped by a something large and warm. One muscular arm was draped over one shoulder and pinning her tightly just below her throat, while the other went around her waist, steadying her. Realizing who had caught her Thralia tried to pull away to no avail.

"What are you-" the sharp question being formed on Thralia's lips was cut off as a small winged shape slammed into her stomach, causing her to fall back against Valen again, her knees buckling, the tiefling now the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground. Claws cut through the light padded armor she was wearing, drawing warm blood to the surface as fragile butterfly wings beat frantically as the small creature tried to burrow into the wizard's solar plexus.

There was more movement, and before Valen or Thralia could react a small throwing dagger had pinned an ice memphit to a tree. The creature let out one high-pitched squeal of pain and a pitiful flutter of thin wings before falling silent, death claiming it. Thralia's attention was shifted away from the dead memphit by a new series of scratches, causing her to hiss in pain. "Nelo! It's dead!" she half-shouted, half-growled at the faerie dragon busy trying to hide himself in his mistress.

A pair of multi-faceted blue-green eyes looked out of a small, draconic face. Twin spouts of smoke came from two nostrils as the faerie dragon climbed up the remains of the shredded armor to curl around Thralia's neck, oblivious to the glare that Valen was shooting at him. "It wasn't a moment ago when it was chasing me," Nelo pointed out, snout in Thralia's sensitive ears. The elf gritted her teeth, telling herself to relax.

"Why was it chasing you?" the druidess asked, automatically reaching up to stroke Nelo, her arm brushing against Valen's as she did so. A tingle shot through her at the contact, of skin on skin, and she jerked away, this time Valen releasing her. Taking a deep breath she waited for Nelo to answer her before turning around.

"What do I look like, a mind reader?" the faerie dragon asked, snorting in derision at the thought. "How am I supposed to know why it and a bunch of its buddies wanted me dead? I mean, its not like I was taunting them or something," Nelo said, sounding too defensive.

"Nelo…" Thralia began. The small dragon merely hid his face behind her tawny hair, claws lightly digging into her shoulders. Sighing Thralia turned around, her eyes briefly flicking up to Valen's before looking over his shoulder to Aribeth and Nathyrra.

"Now that was not harmless. " Tierre padded up to Nathyrra, eyes glittering with silent mirth. "Good job on killing it. The dagger was probably a little over-kill, but it worked." The expression on Nathyrra's face indicated that at that moment she would like nothing better than to skin the panther alive.

Flicking his tail the panther inclined his head as he examined what he could see of Nelo. "You're bleeding," he informed Thralia. "And if we want to reach Neverwinter anytime soon we need to get moving again."

A small snout poked out from the depths of the elf's hair. "About Neverwinter; Nasher said he expects you to come and greet him first, and to be ride through the main thoroughfares of the city. He also says that you are to behave yourself and not get into any fights until after he's talked with you. And Aarin sends his regards. Apparently everyone thought you were dead, and um, well… there are some people who are err… upset… that you still live."

A mirthless laugh came from Thralia's lips as they twisted in a bitter reflection of a smile. "I can only imagine who wishes that I'm still dead," she said. _And who told them all I was dead. _Abruptly she moved forward, meaning to brush by Valen and begin reading the horses to move again. A warm calloused hand gripped her arm, stopping her cold. For a moment Thralia's shoulders sagged, tired of fighting, but then she straightened up and glared at Valen. "Yes? Is there something you need?" she asked, voice cold.

Valen felt his temper rise, irritated by Thralia's refusal to talk with him. "Several things, actually," he said through gritted teeth. His eyes glowed with anger, the blue irises hard, his lips set in a tight line. Behind the pair, Aribeth and Nathyrra exchanged a glance, silently asking whether or not to try and stop the sure to follow argument or to make themselves great. Coming to an agreement both women moved away from the tiefling and elf, towards the horses.

"For starters, you could stop ignoring me or acting like I'm your enemy." Unconsciously his grip on Thralia's arm tightened, and the elf's jaw set in pain, remaining silent though, refusing to draw attention to the fact that he was hurting her. "And then you might want to actually include us in your thoughts." The anger in his eyes also mixed with hurt, and it tore into the druidess like a dull dagger, leaving a jagged, wound behind. Valen's free hand then moved around as a finger traced over one of the new tears in the padded armor, eliciting a wince from the elf. "Those need to be bandaged," he told her, voice softer now, not nearly so loud and hard.

Thralia was confused by his reactions, both angry and kind. "They're just scratches," she said, the hand of the arm not being gripped by Valen attempting to pry his hand off her arm, which was starting to lose circulation. The attempt to free herself proved futile, and it seemed like Valen hadn't even noticed her efforts. This sparked the anger that was lying so close under the surface of her emotions.

The anger wasn't justified by any means, but it was a way to protect herself, one that the druidess had used before and had worked. The small faerie dragon still on her shoulder abruptly moved, making an ungainly jump off her shoulder, flapping wings moving quickly to stop him from hitting the ground. Even Nelo, hardly the most observant of creatures, could tell that he had been in the wrong place.

"And I'm hardly ignoring you now, am I?" Thralia demanded, emerald eyes blazing with her own fury. "Now, if you don't mind, I did intend we get there _before_ nightfall tomorrow, so if you would kindly remove your hand from my arm we can be leaving. Or would you rather I first inform you of when and where we should stop for the night, what we shall eat for dinner, and who shall take what watches right now?"

The biting sarcasm in her tone was irritating Valen even further. "For one moment could you try and listen to me?" he demanded, gripping her chin tightly with one large hand. She tried to jerk away from him, but he wasn't having any of it this time. It was tempting to yell back at her, but the tiefling had figured out by this point that if he fought back then the situation would never be resolved.

"Thralia… I'm not asking you to do anything except let me be with you. I know you are who you are, and that won't change, so don't try pushing me away." Hus crystalline blue eyes bored into her emerald ones, holding her captive. "Thralia, I love you. You know that. I will do anything you ask of me, except leave you. I have already left behind everything I know and followed you to the surface." The elf's eyes were bright with tears she was just restraining from falling. Valen's hand fell away from her chin, and he pulled her close to him, holding her tight against his frame. She seemed so fragile, her body so small and willowy compared to his large frame. It was no wonder she thought him overprotective, for how could he not be when she was so easily hurt? Thralia was far too merciful for her own good sometimes.

Thralia couldn't take it. She wanted to be angry with him, but she just couldn't hold onto that anger any longer. The tears fell down her face, the saltiness rolling past her lips. Her tiefling just held her there, where she felt safe and loved. It was too much. She had no idea how to deal with these emotions, but she would have to find a way. Valen wasn't leaving her side. "I'm so sorry my love." Slowly the druidess raised her tear-streaked face to look at Valen. "And I know I have noright to ask this of you, but I have to ask this of you all the same." Taking a deep breath she steadied herself. "I still love Aarin. Not like I love you. Not anything like that. But I can't just hurt him by telling him that you are my soul mate. It would break him."

Her thoughts traveled back to when she had first met the silent spymaster, and the tale he had told her of his past love. She was brought back to the present by Valen's arms tightening their grip. "I have already asked you to do so much, but I have to ask you to do one more thing for me. Let me tell him that we're together. I… when we reach Neverwinter we can't look anything more than good friends. I need time to let him down gently without hurting him. He's already been hurt so much, and used by so many people. I don't-I can't-have him thinking that I just used him too."

Valen wanted to say no, to tell her that he couldn't watch her with another man, even if he knew it was only a pretense. He couldn't take watching her and not being able to hold her close, to protect her. "Of course," he whispered against her ear, feeling her relax even as he said it. It hurt that she asked this of him, but he could not refuse. "Now let's get you bandaged up," he said, pulling away and looking down to her cuts.

"I can heal myself," Thralia told the surprised tiefling. Valen shook his head, running a finger up her cheek before turning away, pulling her with him, slipping an arm around her waist.

"Since you're fine I'm assuming that we are leaving now?" Valen asked as they walked back towards the rest of their group. "That would be correct," Thralia said, leaning her head against him.

Once mounted the group began to set off, though Valen and Nathyrra dropped back as this part of the road only had room for two horses abreast. Nathyrra looked at Valen, concern on her face. "You two made up, so what's with the long face?" she asked, one arm reaching out to touch the tiefling's arm. He looked distracted.

"She… she asked that she tell her past lover that we are together." His voice was clipped and tense, like he was holding back on something. "You're not telling me something," Nathyrra said, pulling her hand back.

Sighing, Valen decided that he might as well tell the drow. "She says that she needs time to let him down gently, and that once we reach Neverwinter I can appear as no more than a good friend. I don't know if I can do that, but I can't refuse her anything." There was frustration in voice, and hurt, too, Nathyrra realized. "Oh," was all she managed to reply though.

Frowning she returned her attention to the road. Tonight she would have to have a talk with Thralia. She knew the druidess wasn't trying to hurt Valen, but the tiefling wasn't telling her exactly how he felt either. Both of them were holding back from each other, and it was sorely tempting to knock both of their heads together. How both of them could be so thick headed… The assassin shook her head, clearing away those thoughts. Now was not the time to think about such things.

Camping that night under the open stars was a new experience for the tiefling and drow. "Elistraee watches over us this night," Nathyrra said, voice hushed in reverence. One of the drow goddess' symbols was stars, and above the group was a large spread of them. "It is beautiful, isn't it?" Aribeth asked, as Thralia set up the sleeping rolls, having determined that tents weren't necessary, as it wouldn't rain tonight.

The group was all exhausted, even the horses. Thralia had pushed the group hard, anxious as she was to get to Neverwinter. So it was that Nathyrra forgot to speak with the druidess before she told them all she was turning in, and the thought did not occur to her as she too got into her sleeping bag. The next morning they would be, hopefully, approaching the gates of Neverwinter.

Sleep claimed the group, except for the black panther that watched over them. Tierre was troubled. His mistress was trying to balance too many emotions, and it would not end without some heartbreak. Worse was the stress she was placing herself under. It would not take much to make her snap, and the court nobles of Neverwinter sorely tried her patience at the best of times. He was expecting that soon Thralia would snap, and he had no idea about what to do. He supposed he would do what he could when the time came.

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_Well here it is, at last. The next chapter they should (finally) reach Neverwinter. Again, reviews are always appreciated and encourage me to write faster. _

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